


Tea on Earth

by a_t_rain



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_t_rain/pseuds/a_t_rain
Summary: Alys calls on Moira. Set shortly after the epilogue of Captain Vorpatril's Alliance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sglottalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sglottalk/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [sglottalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sglottalk/pseuds/sglottalk) in the [Bujold_Ficathon_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bujold_Ficathon_2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Alys vs. Moira!
> 
> Maybe Alys confronts Moira about the Cetagandan occupation of Barrayar. Maybe Moira confronts Alys about how she's polluting the gene pool of her descendants. Maybe they have an argument about the aesthetics of Barrayaran fashion. Maybe it's something else.
> 
> It can be a serious story, or it can be a silly story - as long as there is friction between these two!

“I do appreciate your concern, young lady …”

No one had called Alys _young lady_ in at least thirty years. Back in the old days, she had usually gotten it from elderly generals or admirals, who insisted – if she objected – that one day she would miss being a _young lady_. She hadn’t.

“… but this is a private affair of the haut. _Was_ a private affair of the haut. In any case, it is over and done with.”

Alys sipped at her tea. It was redolent of jasmine and orange-blossoms, served in delicate bone-china cups with a pattern of forget-me-nots. The golden late-afternoon light of Earth’s sun filtered through the lattice of the little teahouse in Moira’s garden. Earth was still as beautiful as it had seemed on her first visit, six months before, although spring had yielded to autumn. Moira’s hospitality was every bit as impeccable, but this time the conversation had been a little strained.

“A considerable amount of Barrayaran genetic data was destroyed. _That_ is our affair, surely.”

Moira waved a hand. “The genetic samples can be reconstructed from the current population, surely? I understand that your people are nearly as unimproved as they were a century ago. And, of course, if the geneticists on your planet are not up to the task, I should be happy to offer my assistance, or at any rate send one of my apprentices.”

“Barrayaran geneticists would be perfectly capable of reconstructing the data,” said Alys, “ _if_ they were free to take samples from any member of the population they chose, with or without permission. Naturally, every research unit on the planet has adopted the galactic research-ethics protocols, which forbid such methods. Perhaps those protocols were not yet in place when you and your colleagues did the original sampling.” (They had been.)

“Quite,” said Moira. “I understand that it must be difficult to gain permission from your populace. There is still a great deal of _superstition_ about genetic variants, is there not? I do commiserate.”

Alys decided not to be baited into a side-argument about the general backwardness of her home planet. “There is also, of course, the small matter of an assault on a Barrayaran Imperial Security agent, committed by one of your own grandchildren. That does, I think, warrant an apology.”

Moira raised her perfectly arched eyebrows, and abruptly became more human. “Really, Alys, if I had any control over what my grandchildren do, my granddaughter would _not_ be living with your agent – who, I must note, seems very confused about what is his property and what is not. In any case, I am sure that Amiri _did_ apologize to him as soon as he regained consciousness. Do you think I haven’t taught my grandchildren _manners?_ ”

(Amiri had, in fact, apologized; he and Byerly seemed to be quite as good friends as ever, and to regard the whole incident as rather a joke. That wasn’t the point.) “I meant, an apology at the planetary-government level.”

“I have no intention of apologizing to the Cetagandan government,” said Moira. “I refunded their money, as is customary when one cannot complete a business transaction due to the regrettable destruction of the property offered for sale, and that is surely all that anyone can expect.”

“You understand,” said Alys, “that our government wishes to maintain the present state of _détente_ with Cetaganda. As it happens, that is one of our top diplomatic priorities.”

“Oh, I quite understand now,” said Moira, “you were asking my advice about whether _your_ government ought to apologize to the Cetagandan government. I see no need. None of this is, after all, your affair.” She gave Alys a slightly conspiratorial look over her teacup, as if she took it for granted that _of course_ Alys was secretly delighted to have a rogue, stateless in-law who went around insulting the haut, whatever she might feel obligated to say in public. Alys did not know how to correct the misapprehension without invoking concepts that seemed to be entirely beyond Moira’s frame of reference.

“Nevertheless. We would greatly prefer that nothing like this ever happened again.” ( _We_ , in this case, referred to the highest echelons of the Barrayaran government, and not to the general populace – who might, unfortunately, have _approved_.)

“I do not think there is much risk of anything _like_ this ever happening again. It was something of a one-of-a-kind opportunity.”

 _And thank God for that._ Alys made a mental note to ensure that Moira _never_ got another chance to go treasure-hunting on Barrayar, grandmother-in-law or not.

“In any case,” mused Moira, “it may reassure your Emperor to realize that those who fear the haut, need not; those who need fear the haut, do not.”

“Meaning…”

“Consider history, young lady.” Moira began to clear up the tea-things in a manner that signaled, unmistakably, that she did not intend to discuss the matter further. “Perhaps you would care for a brief stroll around the gardens before you go? They are exquisite at this hour. Alas, my age and infirmities do not permit me to join you.”

* * *

 _Consider history, young lady._ Which history, Alys wondered, and whose version of it?

 _Those who need fear the haut, do not._ Of course they didn’t, Alys realized with a shiver; they didn’t live long enough. The corollary, _those who fear the haut, need not_ , was presumably supposed to be the reassuring part, although Alys didn’t yet see _how._

 _Consider history._ Their mutual history? How _had_ a planet of fierce but technologically backward warriors managed to hold such a sophisticated empire at bay, and at the last beat it back?

The knowledge came to her, as certain as if it were something she had always known. _For reasons of their own, they suffered us to do so. That is how._ And all the stories her people had told themselves these hundred years were merely comforting myths, bedtime stories for a race still in their childhood.

 _I need to go back to the hotel and report this._ That much was clear, and certain. There was a secured comconsole at the hotel; and Alys, whatever the official payrolls said, was _ImpSec._

 _I am the only person in the Imperium who knows this._ That also was true, for now. The evening had grown chill, and a lonely star brightened over the cypress trees. Alys lingered for a long moment in Moira ghem Estif’s garden. The evening was, in a strange way, a gift; and so was the fact that there would be time enough later for reports.

**Author's Note:**

> The comment thread may contain GJ&RQ spoilers.


End file.
